


those we left behind

by ShipperificWings



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Depression, Gen, Post City of Heavenly Fire, Survivor Guilt, past one-sided feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11318940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperificWings/pseuds/ShipperificWings
Summary: “I did loved you, you know. It was wrong and I was poisoning everything with my blood but I loved you, not like it should be between siblings but I did and that I don’t regret. I regret scaring you and almost abusing you, hurting those you loved and tended to but loving you was the only lightnes I ever felt.”





	those we left behind

 

_Clary was running through the fields of Idris using the full force her training as a shadowhunter had given her, her muscles flexed, her hair waved behind her back in the long braid her mother had done for her, as her father smiled at the picture mother and daughter madeand turned to give them privacy brewing more coffee for the three of them to take. But then the house shifted in on itself and she decided she needed to go outside, the house was making her insane and she needed fresh air when a pair of green eyes looked at her sadly._

_“I did loved you, you know. It was wrong and I was poisoning everything with my blood but I loved you, not like it should be between siblings but I did and that I don’t regret. I regret scaring you and almost abusing you, hurting those you loved and tended to but loving you was the only lightnes I ever felt.”_

_She looked at him horrified, back straight as a ramrod._

_“Don’t be so scared my sweet. I’m no longer here, you must move on.”_

_She had wanted to scream at him, hurt him, fucking kill him again but she stood where she was. She stood and said nothing and turned her back on him._

_“Maybe in another lifetime Clarissa!” he called sadly behind her back, as he always did._

_And she was terrified to find out how if he was right._

 

 

 

Clary loved her mother and father (the real one -not her cruel, uncaring biological father) but she had felt at the moment that something was missing. By the time she learnt the truth about her brother poisoned beyond help, helpless in the face of his father’s treatment and finally, a monster, scarier than Valentine could ever be she had felt very much as she had walked her whole life knowing they were hiding something from her, something essential that was lost and when found had been twisted beyond hope into hate, vengeance and darkness; so much that she had been surprised when after stabbing the remaining’s of her brother, the hateful, walking demon in a person’s body that he was, something had remained there. She felt at that moment the weight of everything in her shoulders. She wouldn’t forgive _him,_ the walking nightmare forcing himself on her and believing in his dark twisted mind that she wanted him to do so but she wouldn’t forgive either that last minute miracle that was her brother, the boy with the green, peaceful eyes that begged for forgiveness.

 

The great irony of her life was that she was divided between disgust at herself for _caring for a monster_ and the stark grief that attacked her whenever she thought of her older brother, the boy that had cared about her. She wondered idly if all those months trapped inside a pocket house with Jace and Sebastian (and maybe small shards of Jonathan) had left her unhinged, damaged or if it was digging a sword behind his crazed black eyes, killing one of her own.

 

 

_Fratricide. But he’d been ruthless and downright evil and tried to force himself on her and she’d be scared of him._

_Why did she cared?_

 

 

But her therapist –a tall blue eyed mundane woman in her mid to late twenties, that knew only that her father had taken her brother and trained him as an assassin and how said brother had almost raped her when she had started to trust him- did said the boy she woke up screaming for wasn’t the same that kept her awake at night, it had been five years and she still woke up at night when she was feeling particularly stressed, took her pencils and paper and sketched the varied shades of green she had captured when she had knelt on the floor with her mother, the three of them the last of the Fairchilds-Morgensterns, united for once without the shadow of Valentine looming above them.

 

She had talked to Simon about it once, her sweetparabatai had suggested they attended therapy, herself, Jocelyn, Luke and Jace; how it may help them overcome the guilt and soothe them into a semi normal life. But then they had thought how silly it had been to think of it when nephilim and downworlders couldn’t be truthful during therapy.

 

“You could use a metaphor? Maybe Jonathan was a criminal…”

 

“And where were we? My mother abandoned him, an innocent mundane child to his fate as Valentine’s abused son? Knowing full well that he was a killer? It’s just impossible Simon”.

 

But later on she had decided Simon-that had been a mundane, a daylighter and a nephilim all in a lifetime- could be right. Maybe all she needed was to vent and explain herself to someone that didn’t expect her to hate so much, to be so much. So she had found Marlene and she’d been baring her soul to her ever since, taking note of some of her most important issues, and things had suddenly come out of her chest easy- how she was afraid she wouldn’t love Jace enough, not as carefree as he did, how she was terrified of been insane, how she slept too little and ate even less, how she felt remote from her mother and entirely fucked up. Marlene had said she had survivor guilt and many other clinical terms she hadn’t associated to herself. She was kind when explaining it was only normal and she was _human_ and Clary had breathed in relief. Later she had suggested exercises and things to do and Clary had nodded with a resolutely.

 

She had many things to get done and she was slowly feeling crushed by the various degrees of responsibilities she had now as head of the New York Institute.It was a thing to be Clary and Jace, famous figures of the shadowworld and partners and another very different to be the heads of an Institute in their way to be…something else. A something else that everyone was sure was leading to children and a lifetime together. She loved Jace but the weight of the great expectations people had on them was heavy on her shoulders. It was beginning to make her feel _trapped_ like she had no saying in her own life.

 

It all made her feel so distraught that she started drawing subconsciously, she did it sometimes, it seemed as Ithuriel never left her side and stood around her, taking care of her and her loved ones, she suspected she would keep on having prophetic dreams until the day she died.

 

Which was why the day she dream of her death she knew she had little time left. She was running out of time. Jace, Simon and Isabelle, Magnus and Alec, Emma… _her parents…_ they all needed her to work harder, to make do with the information Ithuriel had given her.Something dark was coming and she needed her friends to be able to make do before she left the world for good and joined the soul she wished to believe had been saved.

 

 

The next time she closed her eyes once again and dreamt of vast green fields and coming home where a gentle brother waited for her she didn’t felt guilty anymore.

 

It was a start.


End file.
